


Fragmentation

by Listenerofshadows



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Also Kid Fic Everyone Goes By Different Names Because It's Fun, Angst, Crying, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It's Not Necessarily What I think happened in canon, Just a Fun What-If Fic haha, No Unsympathetic Sides At Worst Morally Grey, Panic, death mention, everyone is trying their best, kinda bittersweet ending?, murder mention, split fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26592136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listenerofshadows/pseuds/Listenerofshadows
Summary: Once Upon a Time, a Bold-and-Boisterous Prince sits on a throne. A Bold-and-Boisterous Prince has a great fall. A Hallowed Heart finds him in pieces and a Studious Scholar puts the Prince back together again. Or.A broken crown lies in an empty throne room. A Shrewd Snake and a Shy Spiderling enter the throne room. Only there isn’t just a broken crown awaiting them, there’s a broken boy. All the words and all the actions can’t put the boy back together again, but a listening ear and a comforting embrace softens the pain. Or.If a mirror shatters into two pieces, which one is the original piece?
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Fragmentation

**Author's Note:**

> Awhile back I started this fic as a small ficlet on Tumblr and then I decided to expand on it and so here we are :)

A clatter echoed in the throne room. A golden crown laid cracked in two. A soft thud followed it as a red sash carelessly engulfed the crown. An exhale, long and strained. Silence. Then a sob as a prince fell to the ground, shattering.

A battered and beaten Heart came along searching for the Prince. He called out his name, searching the castle high and low. But the Prince did not answer nor did the Heart catch a glimpse of him. When the Heart entered the throne room, he kept his gaze on the empty throne. It was not until his foot caught on something that he drew his attention to the marble floor.

“Oh my!” the Heart gaped, eyes watering, “Oh dear!”

Lying at the Heart’s feet, was the fragmented remains of the once bold and boisterous Prince. The Heart touched a piece, a chill pulsing through him at its cold, ceramic touch.

Great globs of tears fell down the Heart’s face as he toppled to the floor in anguish.

He gathered the pieces close to his chest, trying to put the beloved Prince back together again. But for all the Heart’s earnest efforts, the pieces only fractured and splintered into more.

The Heart placed his head into his hands, shaking. He was not good enough to save the Prince. Worse than that, he not only failed but he had damaged the Prince further. He could feel his insides growing frayed, threatening to unravel and come unmade like the Prince himself.

But with a breath of air, he held it together. He may not have the ability to put back together the Prince, but perhaps the Scholar could.

The Scholar was smart. His idea of fun afternoon involved delving into complex, convoluted math theorems. Out of anyone in the realm of Thomas, the Heart trusted him most in solving the matter of the broken Prince.

Lifting a hand away from his face, the Heart summoned him. The Scholar arrived, completely oblivious. His eyes closed, hands tightly clasped around his bowtie. “Welcome to the Jungle, it’s so exciting--” the Scholar recited, in a spoken monotone measure.

The Heart pulled incessantly on the Scholar’s pants leg to grab his attention. This caused the Scholar to jump back, startled. His eyes flew open, trailing down at the Heart and then to the porcelain remains of the Prince.

Usually, the Scholar was never one at a loss for words. He was always the first to ask questions, to seek knowledge to better equip himself and others. But he kept staring at the scene before him, seemingly having lost the capability of speech.

Then a strange stifled noise came from the Scholar. As if there was a blockage in his lungs, a spear that punctured all the air out of them. But of course, there was no spear sticking out of his chest. No logical reason for such a noise to occur. With a face devoid of all emotion, the Scholar knelt down beside the Heart.

He picked up a piece, examining it with an analytical touch, short of licking it. Licking things was a very scientific tool. A tool he refrained from deploying at this moment.

“It’s him isn’t it?” The Scholar said at last, frowning, “But how? It does not make logical sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” The Heart piped up, “but his realm doesn’t tend to follow the rules of reality. But you can fix this, right? Undo wh–whatever this is?”

The Scholar frowned, eyeing the ceramic shards carefully. 

“It is always easier to destroy than to create,” He began, “Or recreate in this instance. However, that does not mean it is improbable.”

A spark of hope ignited in Heart. So you can do it?!”

“I can try,” The Scholar amended, “There is, of course, a possibility it will not work at all.”

The Scholar placed the piece in his hand on the floor along with the rest. Then he stood up, outstretching a hand.

“You should get back.” He advised. The Heart nodded, scampering a few feet back for good measure.

Satisfied with this, the Scholar’s eyes glowed indigo as he called forth his power. Nonsensical, really, but it was how the Prince’s dominion interpreted him; a wizened wizard with a terrifying amount of power. The Scholar restored sensibility to its whimsy. He could reduce a magical unicorn to an average horse.

Something similar could be applied in this situation. He would take the shattered statue and return its original completely whole flesh-and-blood state. He just had to focus and recall every factual evidence he knew of the Prince. Chips and chunks of ceramic floated in the air, swirling as they came together again. At first the shape was ambiguous. 

But as more and more pieces flew up, it became more apparent. A graceful swoop of auburn hair. A chiseled perfectly-formed jaw. A white tunic with a red sash spilling across the chest.

Bit by bit, their treasured prince was returning to them at last.

As the last piece fell into place, a bright light burst forth, filling up the entirety of the throne room. Both the Heart and the Scholar were knocked to the ground by its force. As quickly as it came, it faded. 

“Ouch.” Heart murmured, still keeping a hand over his stinging eyes. The Scholar tried forcing his eyes open, but a wave of nausea hit him. He slumped back down, drained from the massive amount of energy he’d expended.

The sound of strutting boots reached both their ears, growing louder as it neared. Then it stopped. 

“Helloooo?”

The Heart opened his eyes. Through his burning, black-spot riddled vision, the Prince’s befuddled face greeted him. Whole and complete with no signs of cracked lines running across his sun-kissed skin.

“Prince!” The Heart exclaimed, jumping to his feet to embrace him, “You’re okay!”

“Whoa!” The Prince said, holding out his arms for balance. He nearly collapsed regardless when a second set of arms engulfed him. Despite being adamant against physical touch, the Scholar was also…hugging him?

“Not that I don’t appreciate being lavished with displays of affection, I must ask–what in Walt Disney’s name is going on?” 

“We thought we lost you!” The Heart wailed, “and that you wouldn’t ever be coming back!”

“Indeed, th-the possibility of you returning to your full stature was low.” The Scholar said, leaning heavily on the other two for support.

“Well that’s preposterous!” The Prince declared, bringing his arms around his friends, “You should know that a hero like myself could never die.”

“Pompous as always.” The Scholar snorted, but there was no true malice to it.

“Are you feeling alright?” The Heart queried.

“I’m right as rain!” The Prince said with a wide smile, “I admit, I’m very fuzzy on what happened, but I feel _much_ better now.”

“That would make sense, seeing as we found you in actual pieces.” 

The Heart sniffled, burying his head into the Prince’s tunic. “I love you two so much, you know that right?”

“Of course we know, you tell us this every day,” The Scholar responded. Neither Heart nor Scholar saw the hesitation dancing in the Prince’s eyes before it was overswept by a glimmering gleam.

“And we love you very much, Heart,” The Prince said, “Why, I’d fight a thousand dragons to keep you safe!”

The Heart giggled at this. Then wailed, leaving wet spots in the Prince’s pristine clothing. “Th--that’s lovely, but all I want is to cuddle with you and Scholar watching Disney movies and never ever ever let go!”

“That’s ridiculous,” Scholar said, “you’d have to let go at some point--”

“Scholar,” The Prince said, holding up a hand, “Not the time.”

The Prince then massaged the Heart’s scalp, carefully untangling his locks of hair. “My Dear Heart, I apologize. I didn't mean to distress you or the Scholar so. If that’s what you wish for me to do with you two for the rest of the night, I shall do that.”

“I would not be opposed to that.” The Scholar agreed, “As long as we go to bed at an appropriate time--”

“Then it’s settled!” The Prince exclaimed, “Come on, let us build the most magnificent blanket fort!”

With a snap of his fingers, the three vanished. 

The throne room stood silent once more, absent of any apparent sentient life. All that remained was a dusty floor and a crown broken in two. It remained this way only just mere moments. For a Snake came slithering around, forked tongue sniffing the air. Scuttling after him came a Spiderling. All eyes and legs and not much else.

“Snake, why are we here?” The Spiderling asked, “This is the Prince’s domain! He won’t be happy if he finds us here!”

“Shush, Spiderling. Everything will be fineee.” Snake reassured, picking up the broken halves of the Prince’s golden crown. He examined them closely with a careful eye.

“Just because you say that doesn’t make it true!” Spiderling scowled, stomping a leg.

“If you’re so worried, you didn’t have to come.”

Spiderling mumbled something. The Snake raised an eyebrow, “Come again?”

“I came because I wanna protect you from getting hurt!” The Spiderling burst out, face flushing red.

“Aww, I despise you too,” The Snake cooed, ruffling Spiderling’s hair. The latter let out a shriek, hands flying to fix his hair at once.

“But you know I am totally a damsel-in-distress. Completely incapable of defending myself. Besides, surely you felt it too--the Disturbance.”

The Spiderling nodded, grimacing, “I felt Prince...he...is that his crown?!”

“Yes. Just like him to leave such a beloved possession broken and abandoned on the floor, hm?”

“Let me touch it,” The Spiderling pleaded. For he could draw the slightest hint of misery into himself with a simple touch. And with that misery, perhaps a glimpse into what tragedy befell the prince.

The Snake hesitated, before nodding his head. The Spiderling then stood up on the tippy-toes of his numerous legs, tracing one of his fingers on the remains of the crown lying in the Snake’s hands. A spark of anguish jolted the Spiderling at once.

He experienced a pounding, excruciating headache. A mind torn in two, attempting to entertain two polarizing ideas at once. Anger, sadness, frustration crashed down upon the Spiderling wave after wave. It sought to overwhelm, drive him to self-destruction like it had the young Prince.

The Spiderling cried out in pain, his hands cradling his face as he dropped to the floor. A series of metallic clangs followed and then the Snake was at his side.

“Spider!” The Snake cried, laying a cool hand on top of the Spiderling’s, “You’re okay, you’re fine, everything’s fineeeee.”

The Spiderling’s eyes glowed gold for a second, his face relaxing completely. Slowly, the gold left his eyes and he dug his face into the Snake’s satin vest with a whimper.

“I knew it, I knew I shouldn’t have allowed you to touch it,” The Snake said, stroking the other’s unruly mop of hair in a soothing manner.

“I’m okay,” The Spiderling grumbled, “Dealt with worse.”

“Lie.” 

“M-maybe, but Prince, he’s--” The Spiderling hesitated, tears gathering in his eyes, “I think he’s dead!”

“I’m not!” A voice said, hauntingly cheery, “but I wish I was!” 

Both Snake and Spiderling froze, each gazing at the throne room every which way. But besides themselves, there was no one else there.

The Snake’s slitted eye narrowed, “Who are you?”

“I’m the Prince!” The voice claimed, “Or at least, I was. Still am? It’s very unclear. I’m the pieces they forgot, the pieces nobody knew about! Hiding away, like an axe murderer hiding in a closet to kill you in your sleep!”

The Spiderling shuddered at the simile, both sets of arms clinging to Snake for dear life. He was very much content to allow Snake to do the talking for the two of them.

“What do you mean?” The Snake asked.

“Well, you see, I--the Prince--again, very confusing like that weird nightmare Thomas had about eating chocolate-covered teeth--had an argument with himself, ourselves? And his--my head hurt, like it was gonna explode! And so we did! Into itty bitty pieces of confetti and blood and guts!”

The Disturbance. The Snake’s blood ran cold at this. All this time the Prince was dealing with something on the levels of this, and he had no idea? How could the Snake not sense this hidden turmoil? 

That was what the Snake was best at--knowing the jagged truths behind brightly-painted facades. If he’d known--he could’ve possibly helped--well, it didn’t matter now.

Out loud, the Snake simply deadpanned, “Delightful.” 

“Isn’t it?!” The voice shrieked, two green eyes bulging with excitement, “Anywho, that’s when Mr. No Fun showed up and started boo-hooing. He tried to fix it, but he just made it worse! So that’s when he invited Smartypants to join the party.”

“Heart and Scholar?” 

“Winner, winner, chicken-weiner!” Two hands abruptly appeared, clapping, “Now I like Smartypants, but like I said, he’s a Smartypants, thinks he knows everything there is to know and hates when we--I make things up just because!”

“I feel your pain.” 

“Do you?” A several sets of needle-thin, sharp teeth jutted out.

The Snake waved a hand, “Not literally. I don’t presume to know what your pain feels like because I am not you. But I’ve had my run-ins with the Scholar and while an...useful asset to Thomas, I agree he can be difficult to deal with.”

Something green and sticky coiled around the Snake’s bottom reptilian half, entangling the end of his tail. “Ooh I like you!”

Another green-and-sticky something attached to the Spiderling, who did his very best to stay still and not freak. “And I also like you, even though you haven’t said much! What’s your favorite Disney villain?”

“M-maleficient.” The Spiderling said in a hoarse whisper.

“Ooh, sick. I like Ursula because she has two pet eels and when I--we--Thomas grows up, I think we should totally get two pet moray eels and we can feed people we don’t like to them--”

“That’s very nice and you can tell us that wonderful idea later,” The Snake cut in, “but what happened with Scholar and Heart?”

“Oh, alright,” A black boot stomped in mild irritation, “So you know Humpty Dumpty? He’s always depicted as an egg, but it never says that in the rhyme! It’s kinda like that. Smartypants tried putting him--me--us back together again but he got it all wrong!”

A translucent head appeared, shaking side to side in indignation. 

“Y’see, when he put the Prince back together again, he based it off of what he remembered the Prince being. All the pieces he thinks makes who me--him--the Prince is. All. The. Pieces. That. Aren’t. ME!” The fiery flash in the green eyes was the only warning the two received before the physical glimpses dissipated completely. 

“P-prince?” The Snake called out, uncharacteristically hesitant, “Are you still with us?” 

“Don’t! Don’t call me that.”

“Well, what can we call you then?” The Snake amended, withholding a sigh of relief.

“Can I...can I be called the Kraken?”

“Of course, you can be called whatever you’d like.”

An ear-splitting screech sounded in the throne room, causing the Snake to slightly regret his statement. Only slightly, because it was very clearly a joyous screech.

There was a green shimmer in the air and then within a blink, a boy. A boy who looked remarkably similar to the beloved Prince, but not quite. The green tentacles attached to his back was the most glaringly obvious difference. 

But there were more subtle ones. Half-healed scrapes and faded scars. Something the Prince would never allow to blemish his skin. A white strand of hair nestled among the boy’s auburn locks of hair. A black raggedy shirt and a pair of green pants that looked closer to a pirate’s garb than a prince’s attire. 

“I’m the Kraken! Not a stinky loser prince!” The boy whooped and with a running start, crashed into the Snake and the Spiderling. His tentacles surrounded them and the Snake was certain it’d be hard to escape their suction-cup grip anytime soon. 

He was worried that the Spiderling would panic and sink his fangs into the Kraken. Instead, the Spiderling comfortingly stroked the Kraken’s hair just like the Snake had previously done for him. 

The Snake repressed a smile at this. “Kraken, what would you like to do?”

“Cry, I think.” The Kraken responded, promptly bursting into tears. The Spiderling joined him, the poor thing, soaking in the Kraken’s fear and grief. 

“Shh, my dears, it’ll be alright,” The Snake promised, “Forget the others, the three of us can be our own little family. How does that sound?”

“S-sounds good,” The Kraken hiccuped, “Don’t know why I--we--him were so mean to you two, I’m--I’m s-s-s-sorry--”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” The Snake said, “don’t force yourself to talk, let it all out.”

The Kraken obliged, wailing as if the world had ended and all that remained was a trillion bits of space dust. Which, in a way, it felt that way for him. Have you ever been torn in two? Literally? It was an anguish that any amount of words regardless of language would fail to adequately capture.

It was a wound that wouldn’t, couldn’t, ever fully heal. There were some days, he wasn’t fully there, in mind or in body. Sometimes just a flash of needle-thin teeth. A warm breath behind your ears. A shadow in the corner of your eyes. 

But regardless of whatever remnant of him was coherent, he had a family who loved whichever remnant that was there. And for a long, long while, things were happyish. 


End file.
